


Inappropriate Always Method Guy

by Jennifer-Oksana (JenniferOksana)



Series: Tango Series [2]
Category: 30 Rock
Genre: Alcohol, Banter, F/M, Implied/Referenced Sex, On Set, Series, sex comedy
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-10-03
Updated: 2015-10-03
Packaged: 2018-04-24 15:04:56
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,625
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/4924201
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/JenniferOksana/pseuds/Jennifer-Oksana
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>So they had sex. And Liz made a sketch about it. And Jack doesn't seem to mind. What's that about?</p>
            </blockquote>





	Inappropriate Always Method Guy

“He’ll get into character to buy a pie, he’s the one and only…Inappropriate Always Method Guy!” the house band yodeled.

Liz grinned. The character was actually hilarious, and the sketch was a winner with everyone. Even Jenna liked it, probably because she got to be in the first sketch with Josh instead of Tracy.

Of course, Jack had known nothing about Inappropriate Always Method Guy until now. But whatever, Jack didn’t need to know every detail of every sketch TGS did.

“And now we must dance…the FORBIDDEN DANCE,” Josh declaimed. Pete was nodded along, smiling.

“This is awesome,” he said. “Where’d you come up with this, anyway?”

 _Having ridiculously hot sex with Jack Donaghy after learning to tango_ , Liz’s brain helpfully reminded her. Instead, Liz shrugged and shifted.

“I was just eating an onion bagel with lox and cream cheese and watching some Dancing With the Stars, I guess,” she lied.

“Well, it’s great. I bet even Jack will be smiling after he sees the market research on the character,” Pete said enthusiastically as Jenna’s breasts got inappropriately close to Josh and Josh barely hid his not-very-Method cringe.

Yeah. Liz was really sure that Jack would be pleased to find out that she’d turned their random…and what the hell had that been, anyway?…into comedy gold. Well, maybe if it was profitable gold, but she’d still turned sex into a comedy character.

This was why she was going to die alone in her apartment. Not that she wanted to die together with Jack Donaghy, but the greater point still stood.

“Pete, what if I told you I maybe…didn’t get the sketch just sitting around?” Liz asked. “That it was a little more, um, _complicated_ than that?”

“I’d say whatever you did, do it again,” Pete said absently.

Right. Right. Go have sex with Donaghy again. Or possibly even talk to Jack again, because Liz had maybe kind of sort of been avoiding him, because what did you say to a man who made you yip like a standard poodle, and then said afterward, “I’ve never heard a woman make that sound before?”

Jenna probably had the answer to that, but then Liz would have to come up with some kind of awkward lie to tell Jenna, which would then turn into a detailed explanation of why the halter dress had never made it back to wardrobe.

She needed a drink. Immediately.

* * *

Four beers later, and Liz still didn’t have any answers for what she was going to do when Jack saw the sketch. Or the next time she saw Jack, ever.

“He’ll probably be all, ‘Lemon, you’ve been avoiding me,’ and I’m gonna have to be all, ‘No, I haven’t,’ and I’ll do the shifty liar thing, because I so have,” Liz told her beer. “I mean, I’m not that person. I am not the person who has sex with the boss and likes it.”

“So you liked it?” an unmistakable Jack-voice inquired dryly.

“Oh, snarg,” Liz said, red to the roots of her hair. “Hello, Mr. Donaghy. Would you like to sit down?”

“When I suggested you get a personal life, I hadn’t realized the extent to which sexual activity improved your work,” Jack said, sitting down. “I see I might have to get a gigolo clause written into your contract. Or we could always draft Kenneth into duty…”

Liz gaped at him, in what she hoped was an annoyed and appalled sneer. “You’re _disgusting,_ ” she said.

“Lemon, from one tango lesson and middling session of sex, you’ve launched a character who could make our parent company — and yourself — millions,” Jack said. “I think the phrase for this is QED.”

“Middling?” Liz asked, realizing that she hadn’t heard a single other thing he said.

Jack shrugged. “Twenty minutes, no particular kinks explored, clothes mostly remaining on…” he said, trailing off. “Lemon, please tell me you’ve had more exciting sex than that.”

So next week, Inappropriately Always Method Guy goes into a bar…Liz glowered at Jack.

“Of course I have,” she said. Because yeah! “You have no idea of the kinky stuff I used to do with Conan, let me tell you. But middling is a word one uses to describe unsatisfactory stuff. I thought there was some mutual satisfaction.”

He patted her on the shoulder. Like she was the standard poodle girl. “Oh, if you mean, did I finish, the answer is of course. I consider that the minimum standard for sexual encounters,” Jack said. “Don’t tell me, that surprises you?”

Liz glared. “No. But maybe you should be more specific when you tell someone you nailed that it was middling,” she said fiercely. “Anyway, so you’re not mad because I turned our sex into Inappropriately Always Method Guy?”

“On the contrary, I find it both brilliant and a surprisingly touching tribute to our liaison,” Jack said. “Is that American lite beer you’re consuming with that pail of bar snacks?”

“You…you…you stress eat, too!” Liz said, flabbergasted. “What is wrong with you?”

“There’s nothing wrong with me,” Jack said. “I passed an hour with an attractive, if pathologically strange woman, who then decided to ignore me and make me her muse. I’ve had a perfectly unobjectionable week. You, on the other hand, seem angry at me for reasons I’m not quite understanding, Lemon.”

Liz paused. This was kind of the best outcome she could have hoped for from accidental sex with the boss. She hadn’t been fired, she’d gotten a good sketch out of it, it was just like…she’d spent all week stressing out about the radio silence. He could be nicer about that.

“I guess I just don’t do that afternoon delight thing like you do,” she muttered. “I was expecting you to yell at me. Or for something bad and dramatic to happen.”

“I find that when an unexpected liaison falls into my lap, the best thing to do is allow the woman in question to have her independence,” Jack said. “Unless I must have her, and then it’s whatever tactics will win her.”

Liz narrowed her eyes. “I guess that I’m glad that we’re okay, then,” she said. “And that things aren’t weird.”

He smiled at her mysteriously. “Yes, I’m pleased that you avoided me because of your trademark awkwardness, rather than an unplanned pregnancy or suicidal depression at the idea that we could never go public.”

“Yeah, because never having sex with you again is the worst thing that could ever happen to me,” Liz said, snorting.

“It’s good that you understand that,” Jack said.

Liz paused. Something had just flickered in her brain. Something truly disturbing. Jack somehow knew everything about her. He had to know that not knowing if she was fired or whatever would drive her up a wall. Was it possible he was using reverse psychology on her?

“So if you decided you had to have me, what would you do?” she asked. “I know, I know, I’m not as good as your celebutard girlfriends or whatever, but in theory…”

“I would play upon your ever-visible sense of paranoia,” Jack said with relish. “Convince you that I was planning to reject you while you feverishly churned through the consequences of giving into your raging desire to do it again, and then wait for you to come to me.”

“Ha, you missed the part where I don’t have a raging desire to do it again,” Liz said. “That’s why your devious plan to drive me crazy isn’t working.”

“I have no plans,” Jack said. “I simply came to congratulate you on a successful show.”

“Fine,” said Liz. “I can drink another American lite beer without your cutting commentary anyway.”

“And I certainly can find a companion who doesn’t yip like a standard poodle,” Jack said, standing up. “Good night, Lemon.”

Oh, she was going to kill him. But that was what he wanted, for Liz to jump up and show him that she didn’t always yip like a poodle. She wasn’t going to play into his evil genius hands.

“Night, Jack,” Liz said with a clearly insincere smile. “See you tomorrow.”

He stood there, nodding. Ha, this was fun. Liz thought she might have just gamed Jack Donaghy in the middle of a play. Because not only did she not take the bait, she made it clear she didn’t believe him when he claimed there was no gaming going on.

“Well?” she asked. “You’re going, right?”

“I’m going,” Jack said. “Give me a handful of those bar snacks, first.”

Liz passed the bucket over to Jack, who took his handful, stuffed it directly into his mouth, and then walked away.

“Bye, Jack! Have fun!” Liz chirped, feeling weirdly energized. Maybe what it was like, being Jack Donaghy, the guy two steps ahead of everyone. It was kind of cool, especially when her phone went off.

“Pete, hey!” she said. “What’s up?”

“Where are you? We are having the world’s best after-party and everyone wants to see the Liz Lemon booty dance!” Pete shouted.

“Oh, I’m so there,” Liz said. “Where is it? I need to show off my tango, too.”

Pete gave her directions and Liz bounced out the door, right past Jack, who eyed her carefully.

“Don’t trip on the cross,” was all he said. “You’re not quite coordinated enough to pull it off while tipsy yet.”

A smile completely found itself on Liz’s face. God, she enjoyed screwing him. With him. She enjoyed screwing with him, because the screwing him had been a one-time thing that wasn’t even that great. Like he said, clothes had mostly stayed on. How good could that be?

And why did she keep grinning at the thought of screwing…screwing with…Jack?


End file.
